


Ticking Clock

by moderatelypanickedbiromantic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Castiel is a artist, Confusion, Dean is a lonely 24 year old, I know i have like five of these written already but i don’t care, M/M, Mechanic!Dean Winchester, Soulmate AU, artist!castiel, body swapping, castiel knows everything and if dean can get his crap together everything will work out, dean was adopted and so he has no idea whats going on, hes kinda freaking a bit, i like soulmate aus, you would be too if you woke up as not you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 12:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18756541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moderatelypanickedbiromantic/pseuds/moderatelypanickedbiromantic
Summary: On their 24th birthday Dean and Castiel swap bodies for a day. Castiel knows it’s going to happen so he leaves a series of clues for his soulmate to find. But when Dean wakes up in a strangers bed, in a strangers body he doesn’t know what to think...





	Ticking Clock

Dean tossed and turned in the bed. He didn’t know it yet but it wasn’t his bed. It wasn’t even the bed he had fallen asleep in. This bed was strange and unfamiliar and it didn’t cradle his body like the memory foam mattress he had at home. No, this bed was hard and lumpy and it didn’t even smell like home. Instead of the musty smell of smoke and motor oil Dean was used to it smell of the earth and wind. It was fresh, and clean. And before Dean had even opened his eyes he knew something had happened. That something was wrong.

 

He shot up out of the bed as soon as his eyes focused on the unfamiliar surroundings. Paintings and sketches of flowers, kittens, and the occasional person hung from the walls in odd places. A desk sat across the room littered with papers and pencils and cups filled with muddy coloured water. A laptop sat on one edge of the desk, half buried beneath the mess.

 

“What the hell?” Dean groaned rubbing his head. Had he gone home with some girl last night? Unable to remember because of a night spent drinking? No… he didn’t feel hungover and he distinctly remembered coming home to his empty apartment and crashing into the bed. So how… how did he end up here?

 

Dean pulled himself out of the bed and looked himself over. He was wearing a pair of blue striped pajamas that he’d never seen before but there was something… His feet were supposed to be bigger than that right? He spun around the room looking for a mirror after catching sight of his hands. They were softer than his own were supposed to be and his hands were definitely supposed to be more heavily scarred. When Dean came face to face with the reflection staring back at him from the mirror positioned beside the bed, the face that stared back at him was definitely not his own. Where his eyes were normally green, they were blue. His face was clean shaven and he generally preferred to keep a little stubble. Everything was wrong. His cheekbones. His jawline… Even his hair. The man that stared back at Dean was a complete and total stranger.

 

Dean pinched himself, once… twice. The face in the mirror remained the same. “Not dreaming then… A bad LSD trip?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Any explanation would be better than nothing.

 

Dean's eyes searched the room for anything to put on instead of the pajamas he was wearing. If he was going to figure this out he wouldn’t be able to do it by hiding in this room in blue-striped pajamas. His gaze settled on a pile of clothes strewn haphazardly across a chair in the corner. Dean quickly put on a basic black tee and a pair of jeans before leaving the room. And he was shocked by the state of the room he entered.

 

If he had entered the small apartment for the first time through the front door instead of the single bedroom Dean never would have guessed that absolute chaos lived behind the bedroom door. The rest of the apartment was spotless, seemingly barely lived in. There were no dishes in the sink. No mail or magazines littered the coffee table. It was spotless. Immaculate. Everything had a place. And nothing was out of place. Dean felt like he had stepped into the portfolio of an interior designer. He felt out of place. More so than he did inside the messy bedroom.

 

There was absolutely nothing inside the apartment to help Dean figure out where he was…  _ who _ he was. He searched the apartment for two hours looking for a postcard, a cell phone, anything that could help him. He finally booted up the laptop after a fruitless search, he hoped it wasn’t password protected and that the owner would be logged into some form of social media. Anything that could give him a name or a general idea of how to get back to his own body.

 

To Dean the laptop took forever to turn on but when it did he was grateful to find out it didn’t have a password. A window popped open as soon as the home screen started loading; a word document. Dean's eyes scanned over it for a second, he was on a mission to open up the browser and check for a facebook account, or an instagram…  _ something _ . But a few sentences caught his full attention.  _ I hope you find this after you wake up in my body. My names Castiel…  _ The document was a letter, and as best Dean could tell it was meant for him.

 

This… This  _ Castiel _ knew this was going to happen. But how?

 

Dean carefully read over the rest of the letter. _You can find me at this address… My phone number… Find me after you return back to your body tonight…_ _P.S. Happy 24th Birthday!_

 

That last sentence completely threw Dean for a loop. It wasn’t his birthday was it? Truth be told he didn’t really know. His parents had found him tucked behind a dumpster as a toddler before starting the long process of adopting him—if they ever did find his birth parents they didn’t want him—and they could only guess at his actual birthday. But even if today happens to be his actual birthday… How did this Castiel know that?

 

Dean opened up the web browser, he no longer needed to figure out who this guy was that had all been in the letter. What he did need though was answers. And Castiel seemed to be the only one who knew what was going on. So Dean opened up his email and typed out a quick message. ‘ _ I found your letter. What the hell is going on?’ _

 

It was short. Simple. And to the point. Dean only hoped that Castiel would think to check his email, wherever he was, soon.


End file.
